A Little Late
by Shadow's Life
Summary: Turns of chance have ripple effects. Think back to chapter 1, and realize that had little Mikan played with the chalkboard for five minutes less, she would still be in her village, wouldn't she be? Wouldn't she be? Unless...Slightly dark, MxN.
1. Hate Mail

A Little Late

Chapter 1: Hate Mail

Dear Hotaru,

I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, for all these years, where I've been sending you this crap nonstop, it must seem to you. I can imagine how you try not to let it hurt, how you don't read it until midday because that way you forget it by evening but your morning isn't ruined. I've been so selfish…I will stop, I swear to you, on the friendship we once had.

Psych.

No, it's not going to stop. Did I get you for a minute? No, I couldn't have. Heartlessness does have its perks, I suppose. You probably didn't even believe me. Then again, maybe you did – my being such a foolishly innocent, back-town country girl and all. Of course, my mail _does_ say otherwise…I suppose you calculated the outcome, weighing the evidence, before you finished reading the list. It must be so easy when feelings don't get in the way.

I'm continuing my efforts at being your disciple, just so you know. It's worked pretty well – the whole _town_ hates me now. That was a difficult task, let me assure you, my being the sweetest girl in the third grade and all – but with your unfailing methods by my side, how could I lose? Cold- check. Sarcastic- check. Unhelpful- check. Sneering- check. Of course, I made sure to insult everyone who talked to me last week, so of course, no one's going to try anymore next week. Finally, I've reached that point.

In its odd, perverse way, it works. Now I only have you to be angry at. Isn't that lucky? I only get angry with the one who doesn't care. In a twisted way, isn't that kindness? I'll never be your perfect disciple. I'll always have a flaw. None can approach you, O untouchable.

I can and will. I know you still get these. Don't forget that you have a flaw, Hotaru. You always will. You'll always have me. I once hoped that that sentence would be a testament to friendship, but it's more interesting to see it as a statement of evidence that once, you did try to care, and that it didn't work. The great Imai Hotaru has a weakness, and it's a stupid village bumpkin on whom she tried her first experiments at any kind of a relationship! How laughable.

Don't worry, Hotaru. I'll stand up to them. I'll tell them that we're best friends forever, and that I'm _not_ an experiment. I'll tell them that you really do care.

Oh, wait, you don't want me to, of course. I'm sorry for suggesting something that would embarrass you. It should be more along the lines of, "I used to lend her money all the time!" shouldn't it? That would fit.

I'm still here for you. I understand.

Yours truly and yours always,

Sakura Mikan

Mikan put down the pen and stretched her fingers, looking through them idly at the light that shone through from her desk lamp. Face blank, she broke the mesh of fingers that had caught the light, and looked away.

She looked back at the letter on her desktop, and folded it up neatly, making sure to match up the edges. She pulled out the bottom drawer of the desk, rummaging a little until she found a pink envelope with a slight bulge. Smiling slightly, she took out the small packet inside it – a sachet of lavender to scent the envelope – and rummaged some more until she found a silver glitter pen. For the next ten minutes, she doodled meticulous curlicues on the envelope, and on the letter itself to match, until she had developed a casually artistic border on all the stationery, with carefully styled accents. She decided that adding gold cupids would be excessive, and would ruin the prank, and slipped the letter inside, sealing it with a dot of gum neatly spread to cover the flap's edge- so that the border would be ruined. She addressed the letter first in black ink, and then accented the letters with more silver. Then, unable to resist, she fished out the gold pen and put a tiny firefly in the right-hand corner. She took the small scissors from the corner of her desk, snipped three tiny clips of hair – so small they could be fur – from the tip of a stray lock at the edge of her vision, and slipped them into the envelope through the corner, careful not to wrinkle it.

She got up, walked out of the house – nodding without turning at her grandfather – and onto the road, briskly turning to head to the center of the town. She didn't move to adjust her light clothing to keep out the chilly wind, but instead set a brisk pace along the narrow road, hair flapping out behind her, the unfortunate lock clinging to her forehead, refusing to recede as if angry with her for spoiling its looks. She laughed at the odd thought, eliciting a couple odd looks from a passing crowd of old ladies.

The letter was in the post box and she was back inside before forty minutes had passed, smiling to herself in the quiet comfort of her room. She wrapped herself in a patchwork quilt, picked up a book, turned on the iPod nestled in its iHome in her room, and settled in to read until she fell asleep.

As she drifted off, she put a hand out to turn off the music, and then the light.


	2. April Fools Day

Imai Hotaru woke up on the morning of April Fools' Day, and checked the weaponry for the day – in lockdown under her bed – first thing. Armed with the Taser-like object inside the case, she checked the lock on her door, picked up her toiletry bag, disabled the lock on it, checked its authenticity, and carried it into her bathroom, brandishing the scanner in front of her, as it emitted a weirdly purple light.

She had a good business going in the April Fool Protector 2.5. Obviously, sales in the past week had skyrocketed, even though it had been available for the past month. She snorted at the thought. How people were stupid enough to leave it this late, in _this_ place, she had no idea.

The April Protector Lite – which she was carrying – was, of course, kept for her personal use, and had a few other tricks up its sleeve, such as multi-ray scanning instead of just an X-Ray/ black-light toggle, and a few others. It was also a lot lighter, given that it used the latest and most expensive ray projectors, paid for from her revenues.

Which still left a handsome profit; of course, the price hikes in the past week had been a good call.

She finished brushing her teeth, came back to her room, checked the lock again, went to shower – first switching on the advanced defence setting on her alarm system – dressed, after pulling her clothes and lightweight armour out of her inbuilt cold-chamber – where she had placed them a week ago to make sure no contamination of any kind reached them – and, shivering slightly, armed with both her April Protector Lite and an odd wristwatch that seemed a little bulky for her slim wrist (the Bakan Gun Portable), she opened the door, ensuring first that her alarm system was still enabled, and stepped outside.

Out of habit, she checked the mailbox to the left of her door, first remembering to Taser it to disable any surprises inside.

The APL registered a curse spoken softly around the corner of the corridor through its Key-sound Register Function (capable of picking up a selection of pre-programmed words when spoken by absolutely any voice, up to a hundred meters away), identifying it on its silent digital panel as Hyuuga's voice. She smiled to herself, used the room scan function to find the mirror he was using to watch her, and shot it with the paintball function.

She looked at her mail at leisure.

Invitation, invitation, bill for parts, invitation, _another_ letter offering sponsorship, she could tell just by the pretentiously heavy paper and gold motif, and something pink, covered in simple, flowing lines twining into a border, and addressed in beautiful, careful handwriting to Imai Hotaru. Her heart skipped a beat as she tore it open.

Hyuuga Natsume was thankful that he had thought to install a small bag of cleaner above the mirror. He opened it with a small spark, and smiled in satisfaction as the paint washed off, leaving his view unobstructed. Not that he expected much, when she had shocked the electronic mechanism into gadget heaven.

His eyes widened in astonishment at the pink, glittery envelope held loosely in his quarry's fingers, and the succession of expressions on her face. Disbelief, excitement – excitement? Imai Hotaru? – A moment of shock that he had been hoping to see on her face for four successive April Fools' days, and a shutdown, pulling the familiar face back into its familiar cast. Had he not seen the process, he would have believed that the dark tinge it had was only his imagination.

She put the letter back in the envelope neatly, put in back in her mailbox with the rest – which it looked like she hadn't touched – and walked off towards the dining hall, hand shaking. He guessed that she would break her Taser toy if she didn't loosen up on it soon.

He hadn't exactly grown a conscience in the last five minutes. He crept softly up to her mailbox, flicked it open with a thumbnail and jumped back, relaxed when nothing sprang out at him, and fished out the pink envelope with two fingers.

His eyebrow rose when he saw that all the glitter was hand-done, and drew out the letter inside. His other eyebrow rose as he read it. He turned the single sheet over, expecting something more.

How could something this silly get to Imai Hotaru? It was something that would only make her raise an eyebrow for a fraction of a second unless it had a significant back-story.

Well, the letter did claim a back-story, he realized as he re-read it.

Could this idiot really have been Imai's first friend?

Only friend, he corrected himself.

He searched deep within himself to see if he cared enough to dig a little deeper.

He realized he didn't. But also that he would anyway, if only to alleviate his utter boredom with life at the moment.

People at the dining hall were whispering as they watched Hotaru stab at her pancakes as if Western breakfasts were the root cause of all evil in the world. It was rare, even on April Fools' Day, to see her _this_ angry. Or this emotional in any direction, period.


	3. Crash

When Hyuuga Natsume entered the dining room, at least fifty people looked up. At least thirty-five out of those minimum fifty were girls.

Obeying the laws of irony, he only paid attention to someone who wasn't. Without batting an eyelash, he strolled leisurely up to where a pale blond youth was leaning his chair back on the back legs and stroking the white mouse in his hands, and sat down next to him. The place he sat at was lavishly set with gold-edged plates and engraved cutlery, with a wide silver covered dish before the plates along with an array of sauce pitchers, bottles of preserves and syrup, bowls of chocolate chips, marshmallows and the like, a bowl of whipped cream, a butter dish, and a plate of assorted berries.

He watched uninterestedly as unobtrusive robot arms reached around him, serving the pancakes in the silver-covered dish onto his plate, garnishing them with the fixings. Only his favourites, of course.

Lucky that special stars could trust the food they were served. He idly picked up his fork, using it to trace patterns on the plate with chocolate syrup; he used the opposite tine of the fork to accent the swirls with whipped cream.

"Give me a strawberry." Ruka's voice was even and low.

Natsume reached for the small dish next to his plate, and flicked a medium-size berry into the air with his thumb. Neatly, the other boy caught it with his left hand, and held it up to the mouse in his right. The creature grabbed the berry with dainty paws, and began to nibble at it. Ruka resumed stroking the white fur, eyes focused absently at a point somewhere before the mouse. A long moment of silence followed.

Ruka finally spoke, his tone uninflected, as if he was continuing without pause.

"So how did it go?"

"How do you expect? She tasered it." Natsume raised an eyebrow without turning away from his plate.

"These things happen."

"Four times or so."

"I never said they happen rarely."

"Shut up."

"Whatever. Eat your food."

"I will, I will."

"When? Next century or so? Food is strength."

"Don't start again, Ruka." Natsume let out the tiniest of sighs.

The other boy smiled, his face twisting to give it a bitter cast. "Fine. I won't."

Another long silence later, he spoke again. "Eat your food."

"I thought you said –"

"April Fools'."

Natsume turned to look up incredulously at his friend. "_That's_ your idea of a joke?"

Ruka giggled a little. Natsume rolled his eyes.

BOOM.

The suddenness of the sound made it all the more unbearable to the eardrums. Every one of the two hundred-odd people in the hall clutched at their ears desperately. Ruka's mouse disappeared into his sleeve.

The table was thrown into the air, and overturned, breaking everything on it. Around them, the same thing happened to every table in the place, all at once. The sounds of crashing glass and porcelain plate ware echoed in the high-ceilinged hall, mixed with a million high, metallic clashes as cutlery fell with it. Tablecloths plumed up as if surprised at the sudden lack of support beneath them; it looked as if a party of ghosts had suddenly appeared in the room.

Natsume and Ruka had been alert enough to stand up; others were not so lucky, and landed with the heavy chairs on top of them. Shouts filled the room, and screams. A wind started up, and Natsume realized that the windows had been broken too. The tablecloths flapped and billowed, and he cursed at the obstruction to his view.

The ringing in his ears only stopped when he lit a small spark in each of them, very carefully. He did the same for Ruka, who held himself very still during the procedure. Then he started moving.

As he searched for the source of the explosion-cum-earthquake, he saw that there was a hole in the ceiling – and, as things settled, he saw that there was a depression in the floor to match, directly below it. In the centre of the room. Roughly forty feet away from him. In the debris surrounding, fifteen seconds to cover.

"Shit." He started running towards the depression, going over and around bodies and wood and broken porcelain with the agility of a cat. As he moved, he noted that there were a few who had managed to save themselves from injury. They were kneeling down, still clutching at their ears. He signalled to Ruka to handle them.

Someone was there at the spot before him, he could see. How had he or she withstood the sound…?

Imai. Not someone breakable. He almost sighed in relief, seeing the ridiculous panda earmuffs on her ears. She at least could handle this.

He backtracked on that when, with a final jump, he came to stand facing the scene.

She was facing someone – the cause of this mess, obviously. The person had trailing, wispy red-brown hair, looking about shoulder-length and blowing all over the place, obscuring the face; he or she was wearing extremely baggy clothes and an oddly shaped backpack.

The look on Imai's face was one he recognized. Unfortunately. It was from this morning. Not something he wanted to see in this sort of situation.

"Nice to see you again, Hotaru-chan. It's been a while, hasn't it?" The person – girl, it was a girl – pushed her hair back from her face with one hand, and smiled with cherry lips in a heart-shaped, high-boned face. It was striking, as well as immediately recognizable.

"Mikan."

The girl moved her hand, and flipped a purple stone in the air. Natsume tensed, first at the movement and then at the sight.

Alice stone.

She threw it at Imai. No one moved. The stone never stopped, continuing fluidly into Imai's body. She didn't flinch.

"There, it's back. Thanks for lending it to me." The girl – Mikan – smiled again, coldly. "It's been useful.

"No, really," She asserted when Imai laughed shortly. "Unless that was sarcasm. Of course, it probably was, wasn't it? You'd obviously realize that it had been useful, seeing me here today with this thing." She slipped off her backpack and threw it lie a discus across the separation between them.

"I suppose it's yours, too, technically. I _think_ that's the correct etiquette when you borrow a gujitsu Alice."

"Please do clarify for our audience, Mikan. I really don't like that you keep using the word _borrow_. You could at least have the grace to use the word steal. It implicates me in a rather inconvenient way, otherwise."

Yet another of those cold smiles. "My apologies. Of course, it is true that I stole it. Isn't that why it's called the Steal Alice, after all?" The tone was mocking.

"After all."

The girl continued almost conversationally. "Anyway, I can't believe that yu were prepared even for _this._ Even the earmuffs. Of course, it _is_ April Fools', isn't it?"

"Shut up."

Mikan's face was wiped clean of expression at the words.

Imai walked forward, until there was only a foot of space between them. She brought her hand up abruptly, and struck the other girl across the face.

"You owe me, friend." A beat of silence. "Remember that."

Then Imai spun on her heel and walked away, shoes clicking neatly against the marble floor as she wound without effort through the debris. Soft, bitter laughter followed her out.

Natsume watched the retreating figure with assessing eyes.

"Well, Hyuuga Natsume-san? Aren't you going to help me?"

Natsume turned back to his quarry. She raised an eyebrow. "I feel _so_ ignored, as a guest. Do I really have to remind you of my existence for you to pay attention to me? I know Hotaru-chan is fascinating and all, but still…"

Warily, he moved forward, first taking out his gloves from his back pocket and putting them on, fluidly.

"Wise." She sighed, and held her hands up by her head. "It would have been fun to fight you, but since I wasn't planning to fight for real anyway, we might as well get this over with."

He took out a vial from his belt, and touched it to her lips before she could react. Her eyes immediately clouded over.

"I met your mother last year. So I don't believe you."

That soft laughter again, fading and uneven now as the owner of the voice staggered. "Is that…so…" She slumped, and Natsume caught her readily.

He raised his voice. "I'm taking her to Imai-sensei."

Ruka watched him, a troubled look in his eyes.

"All right."

"Well, I'm out. There's no use staying in this dump, when there's not even any breakfast left." His voice was suddenly loud and nonchalant. He turned to leave, the few remaining uninjured trailing after him, apparently recovered from the sonic bomb.

Natsume hoisted the girl onto his back and began walking.


	4. Interrogation

AN: Will update about once a week, but I don't work well with schedules. What can speed me up is reviews. Glorious, wonderful reviews (even flames, which I would actually love) that tell me the thoughts of that currently characterless mass of people who choose to click the link in GA with a slightly clichéd, overly understated title, and continue reading enough to form an opinion.

Do not own GA, do not wish to.

* * *

Chapter 4

The light streamed through the wide window, picking out highlights in the untidy, wispy brown hair so that it looked like it was tangled with strands of spun gold. The sleeping face looked at least five years younger than its wakeful version, thought Hotaru as she watched her brother from the edge of the glass viewing screen. She stayed there a moment, watching as his hands moved with efficient sweeps over the strawberry-flushed skin, as if wiping away the bruises and cuts. Oblivious to him and his work, Mikan slept on, her breathing slow and even. Too slow.

On cue, Hyuuga reappeared in the scene framed by the window, walking over to the bed from an unobtrusive side door and placing something on the covers next to Subaru's arm. The young teacher immediately scooped it up – it was a vial – grabbed a syringe from the tray beside him, filled it with the vial's contents, and shoved it deep into his patient's throat before pushing on it.

To ensure it didn't leak from her mouth or get too diluted with drool, Hotaru mused.

The reality of such situations was a lot less romantic than their representation. A lot fewer mouth-to-mouth administrations and a lot more syringes were involved.

Hyuuga stood in a corner of the room, relatively unobtrusive; but that didn't stop sensei from ordering him from the room inside of five minutes. Her brother couldn't stand any distractions when he really had to concentrate, she knew. Which meant that this was one of those situations when he really had to concentrate. What was going on?

She glanced for a moment at the figure that came out the door next to her to stand at the other edge of the viewing window, before shifting her eyes back to the scene, where she could see the absolute faintest hints of a tremble in her brother's hands, and a vein or two standing in relief on his neck.

The last time he had been _this_ taxed by a healing had been two years ago, when three people had fallen from a fourth-floor room and had all broken their necks. He had healed them all simultaneously to prevent brain tissue damage. He had had to work about this hard at that time. Maybe a little less.

The body beneath his hands stirred; the sight was bizarre, too much like a puppeteer and his puppet for comfort.

But it had been of Mikan's own volition. The hazel eyes opened, swivelled round, taking in her surroundings; her face contorted as she made a sudden effort, apparently to rise from the bed. Sensei spoke, the words obviously monosyllabic. She settled at once.

Hyuuga swept past Hotaru again wordlessly, entering the room next to her again. He left the door a fraction of an inch open. It was enough for sound to carry through, at least better than through completely soundproofed walls like this one. She had to remember to leave a present by his room in thanks.

Inside the room, a deathly pale man wearing a mask entered from the door that Hyuuga had used earlier. Although he was at least a foot taller, he entered just as gracefully and soundlessly as his younger comrade.

Mikan greeted him with a nod of her head, a corner of her mouth lifting. "Good morning. So nice t meet you at last, sir."

There was no response from the man; he walked o the edge of the bed, drew up a chair, and sat down, back ramrod straight. He said nothing for a long moment, silently examining his subject's face. She watched him back, with an expression that would have been grave on anyone else – on her cherry-lipped face, it was simply impudent.

Finally, the man spoke.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions. Can you answer me? Or would you like some time to…adjust, first, to your surroundings? I am given to understand that your ordeal has been – quite strenuous."

He received a mocking smile, but didn't react. Mikan answered a beat later than would have been strictly polite.

"By all means, continue. I'm well prepared to handle your questions. Would I have given myself up, otherwise, Serio Rei-kun?"

The man's face twitched. Mikan's lip curled, a tiny bit, before dropping back into its serious-but-not-serious cast.

"Very well. Please tell me your full name."

"Sakura Mikan." She sighed before he could continue. "I know you won't react to that, so I should tell you that it was Yukihara Mikan when I was born."

It had? That was the first Hotaru had heard of the fact.

"What method did you use to enter the school perimeter?"

"A radio-silent jet pack. Goodness, won't you even acknowledge that I'm trying to bait you?"

"Describe it."

"It's capable of transporting humans below 40 kilograms in weight up to a distance of 50 kilometres. It runs on water, which it converts to hydrogen and oxygen by hydrolysis and proceeds to burn as fuel, as well as trapping it in distributed chambers for increasing the system's buoyancy. Its design follows the principles of biomimics, based on the structure of a praying mantis. It is currently in the hands of Imai Hotaru. It was freely given to her by me. Goodness, at least just acknowledge that I'm baiting you for my own personal satisfaction, you won't lose anything by it, will you, Rei-kun?"

"How did this jetpack come into your possession?"

"I made it myself."

"Have you ever shown any aptitude in making or designing such devices previously?"

"No, of course not. You know how I got that particular ability. Don't act like your subordinate over there wasn't _there_, love. You know, avoiding speaking with me in context of that is going to put you in a difficult situation after a few questions. You know I won't be this helpful then."

"Have you any explanation for this sudden aptitude?"

"Yes. In was in possession of the Alice Stone of one Imai Hotaru, who has the Alice of Invention."

"What is an Alice stone?"

"This is getting ridiculous, really. A physical manifestation of an Alice owner's Alice, which functions as a tool for the use of that Alice by another person. Depending on the method of its formation, it can be an extension of that Alice's Alice, or an actual 'part' or the whole of it."

"How did you learn this?"

"Because my own Alice centres around the concept. You know that, you've met my mother."

"How did you learn it is what I asked. Please answer the question."

"_From_ my mother."

"What is your mother's name?"

"Azumi Yuka. Remember her?"

"Was she an Alice?"

"Yes."

"What Alice?"

"Teleportation, Steal, Insertion. All of which you've seen yourself."

"Are you an Alice?"

"Yes."

"What Alice?"

"Nullification, Steal, Insertion."

"Was Nullification also inherited?"

"Yes. From my father. You knew him very well."

"What was your father's name?"

"Yukihira Izumi. He was a teacher here. But you knew that, too, Rei-kun." Mikan's voice had turned from light and mocking to frosty, but it was still perfectly clear and even, the syllables snapping as she said them, betraying a hint of an accent that had previously been undetectable. The corners of her interrogator's mouth turned down for a fraction of a second before he continued.

"Do you live with your parents?"

Mikan laughed abruptly. "That's rich. What are your intentions in asking, murderer? You know very well that I don't live with my _parents._"

Hotaru froze in place, suddenly unable to tear her eyes away from Mikan's face, and the expression on it. Mouth thin and straight, like a red slash; eyes abruptly bright and yet flat; cheeks chalk white and drawn in, suddenly highlighting the purplish rings around her eyes.

On anyone else's face, it would have been hate. On hers, it was pity.

How? If she believed in the veracity of what she had just implied, then how? How was it she could face this man without dissolving into tears? Into fury? How could she face him with _pity_ on her face?

Hotaru felt like her spine had just dissolved, leaving ice in its place.

"Where is your current place of residence?"

"With an old man in a small village who has no blood relation to me. I've moved out, though."

"How did you come into possession of Imai Hotaru's Alice stone?"

"I stole it."

"When did you have the opportunity?"

"This morning, when she opened my April Fools' Day letter. I had hidden some snips of hair in it."

"Are you aware that mail sent to the school does not reach most students?"

"Yes. But I know it reaches her, because I've tested it before. I suppose it's a waiver because she gets so much correspondence from universities and the like? Or is it an Honour student privilege?"

"How powerful is your Alice?"

Mikan smiled sarcastically. "Had I not had the Nullification, I would never have learned to control it on my own, Rei-kun. Remind you of anyone?"

The man's face flickered again. Mikan laughed, the sound sharp.

"When it isn't limited, it can work across distances up to forty kilometres, as long as I know my target and they have something of mine with them. Better if said object was part of my body, so hair is convenient for larger distances."

"What is your purpose in coming here?"

"I wish to enrol in Alice Academy."

A beat of silence.

"There are more conventional methods of enrolling n the Academy. Is there a specific purpose for you choosing to do so outside the bounds of regulation?"

"Not if I'm aiming for your class, Rei-kun – sorry, _Sensei._ And I want people to know I'm here at the same time."

He was silent again, for a long time. Rather than scrutinising, the two simply watched each other, half wary, half challenging. Of course, subtly enough that it took listening to the entire conversation to even pick up on it.

"Very well, I'm finished. Thank you for cooperating." Abruptly, he stood; they didn't break eye contact.

"I apologize for troubling you." He turned, breaking the link with what looked like deliberate unconcern. He walked to the door he had come from, and stopped at the door, turning his head back.

"Another thing. Being that you are an Alice who has entered the academy premises and is underage, you are automatically an official student. As teacher for the Dangerous Ability class, I introduce myself as Persona, and warmly welcome you to Alice Academy." He opened the door abruptly, walked forward, and closed it behind himself with a bang.

Hotaru stood silently for a full minute before opening the door fully and walking in.

Mikan's smile was bright, but beneath it, strain was evident. Hotaru sighed.

"Just don't talk for now. You need rest. Sleep." She sat down next to the bed, picking up her friend's hand and wrapping it firmly with both of her own.

Mikan's face softened, the smile now weak. "Typical. You've got to make sure I stay alive, after all…"she laughed softly. "I haven't paid you back yet."

"No, you haven't. You'd better stay alive long enough to, I can't even collect from anyone else for this."

Mikan closed her eyes. "All right, then. I suppose I'd better." She relaxed against the bed, and in minutes, her breathing was slow and even once more. Normally slow this time.

Hotaru simply watched her face, her own expression blank and her eyes dark, not moving.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the small door opened again. Hotaru didn't look behind her, but spoke in a low tone, first swallowing surreptitiously.

"Hyuuga."

"Who is she?" Natsume's voice was low and even, barely audible.

"Is that full payback for letting me listen to them?"

"It's even. Information for information."

"All right. You know this much: she's Azumi Yuka's and Yukihira Izumi's daughter. Her name is Sakura Mikan. Separated from mother as a child. Father died before she was born. Here, in fact. That man – Persona – killed him, if she's to be believed."

"Go on."

"She's met her mother since, and been trained too. Has a slight accent – French, maybe. Could be Abidjan."

"Abidjan. Azumi was there about a year ago."

"So she's travelled, international no less. I suppose your boss will find her useful."

"You know her."

"Met her four years ago. Before I came here. She was from the town I left."

"A _friend._"

"That was a joke. Really, a code. She was saying she was going to surprise me, but I wouldn't be surprised; not to let resist what she was asking, for her safety and mine; that she had moved out of the town; she had finished preparing last week; she was coming to where I was, meaning the Academy. Also not to try to stop her for anything stupid like friendship, et cetera. She'd make sure I wasn't in any way liable; and that what she wanted _me_ to do was nothing, because it was already done by the time I got to finishing reading the letter."

Hyuuga blinked. "What kind of code? I searched, but I couldn't find any consistent patterns."

"Nothing more than oblique references everywhere. She's pretty good at it." Hotaru gave a tiny sigh. "The last time she tried to mail me was before I got my Honour student status. This is the only correspondence I have."

"It referred to other correspondence. The letter."

"Empty reference."

"Anything else?"

"Enough. You're paid back now. Leave."

"Not quite paid back. I did get her the antidote before the secondary function kicked in."

Hotaru became even more still, if that were possible. "Secondary function?"

"One of Anna's little tricks; they snitched it. The second-level effect of the sedative I was given to use is to increase receptivity to suggestion."

"As in, a brainwashing aid."

"Exactly." Natsume's voice went a little lower. "I ought to have delayed bringing it enough for that to happen. I pretended I forgot. What can I get for that?"

"Nothing from me. That's your business with her, when she wakes up."

"I have to leave _now_."

"Then arrange for it at a later date. I'm done."

Natsume paused. "Fine."

Ha said nothing more, but the door opened and closed again, creating a play of shadows on Mikan's face in the now slanting light. Hotaru stayed exactly as she had been, holding the slim hand in both of her own, unmoving down to the eyes, except for the slow, even movement of air in and out of her lungs that matched the breath of the sleeping figure on the bed before her.


	5. Reveal

Chapter 5

"Class, I'd like to introduce you to Miss Sakura Mikan. She will be your classmate from today, so I hope you will treat her well, and help her adjust to the school." The words were meaningless formalities, and the coldly indifferent faces staring back at her said that they knew it.

"Hyuuga-san, I'm assigning you to be Miss Sakura's partner for the next month; you can help her learn about the school and help her adjust."

"The partner system is only for the elementary school."

"I'm sure you're aware that even high school students are assigned to be partners to new students."

The boy grunted noncommittally. The teacher – who hadn't yet introduced himself – seemed to realize that that was the best he would get as an answer, and moved on.

"Well, Sakura-san, you can go sit next to Hyuuga; we'll see about a different seat at the end of the month, if it's necessary."

She looked back at him silently, and, slightly discomfited, he turned to the desk for a moment.

"By the way, my name is Misaki, and I'm the biology teacher here. You'll have my class in third period."

She inclined her head quietly. He had the odd impression that he was the one deferring rather than being deferred to by the simple gesture. "Thank you, sensei. I'm sure I will manage well."

"Yes. Well. I have class now, so I need to leave quickly. Jinno-sensei is absent today, class, as he is feeling unwell. Stay quiet, and do not exit the class. You may use the opportunity to catch up on homework or practicing, but do not leave the classroom." His voice rose suddenly to make the announcement, and Mikan frowned momentarily at the sound, leaning a little away from him. He noticed, and his voice dropped to less than half the volume in the middle of the sentence. Quiet chuckles could be heard. Most just rolled their eyes.

"Well, I'll be leaving now. Hyuuga-san, please use the opportunity to explain a few things to Sakura-san."

"Explain what?"

"You could tell her the school schedule, for a start, and the classes you have today."

He left without giving a chance for reply. The boy hadn't opened his mouth again anyway.

The room erupted at once, in talking and shouting and laughter. In a second, everyone reassembled, into huddles of varying sizes. Things began flying around over everyone's heads, ostensibly because of a lanky, sharp-faced boy in the corner of the room who was waving his fingers in the air. A few of them started changing colour. Mikan could figure out who was doing this.

Many people began to walk towards Hyuuga, but stopped abruptly when Mikan walked forward, and turned awkwardly to join some other group. She blinked, hiding the automatic roll of her eyes.

He was leaning back on the chair legs, long legs propped against his desk. A multitude of asymmetrical earrings peppered his ears all around the rims, catching the light from the window and winking silver and gold through his irregular hair, which was jet-black, just past chin-length. His shirt was rumpled, and open at the collar, and his blue uniform pants were faded and dirt-streaked.

Had it not been for the face, he would have been the physical embodiment of the word 'ruffian.' But the face was too symmetrical, too precise – especially the eyes, evenly placed, dark crimson; framed by straight, short black lashes that made the whites seem almost bleached. They were watching her, sizing her up. As she was him.

Having stood in front of his desk long enough for the pause to become a certifiably awkward one, she bowed.

"Nice to meet you, Hyuuga-san. I'll be in your care."

He didn't stop watching her. But he spoke, his voice vulgarly expressive with derision after her own measured tone, though just as quiet.

"Drop the act, _Sakura_. We've met."

She smiled sweetly. "I'm so glad you remember, Although that can hardly be called a _meeting_, can it, Hyuuga-san? But I suppose it must be normal for you to _meet_ people in those sorts of situations."

His mouth twisted for a second.

She turned, and put down her books on the desk on his right, and sat slowly.

Neither spoke immediately. Mikan watched the chaos around her with some interest. Natsume stared at an invisible point about four inches from his nose.

"What are you here for, Azumi?"

"Wait and see."

After a long pause:

"Did your mother send you?"

"Why not ask her?"

Half the class was watching them surreptitiously. It didn't look like they were saying or doing anything whatsoever. Something had to be going on.

After a whispered conference, they came to an agreement that Shouda would be the class's representative. She stood and walked forward, heels of her shoes clicking sharply.

Mikan's eyes turned to observe her approach, a mild and polite expression in place. Somehow, the sight of it was infuriating. Sumire's voice was a little sharper than she had originally intended when she snapped at her opponent.

"Sakura-chan, is it? What's your Alice?"

The mild surprise on Mikan's face somehow communicated that she wasn't in the least surprised at the confrontation.

"I'm Sakura Mikan. Nice to meet you." She bowed her head. "Is there any problem?"

"I guess you don't understand it yet, do you? Around here, your identity is your Alice. Go on, introduce yourself properly. In fact, show us."

The lines sounded silly for some reason. They had come out a little too fast. Sumire cursed inwardly at herself. Why was she getting nervous?

The politely regretful smile she received somehow made it worse. "I'm sorry, I don't think I should do that."

"Unless you can give us a reason, that's not for you to decide. Hurry up, or you'll regret it."

Better, much better.

"We're waiting."

And so they were, Sumire acknowledged, satisfied, to herself. They were all clinging to every word like cream onto whiskers.

"I just don't think you'd want to see it."

"Let us decide that. Is your Alice that pathetic? Come on."

"Should I, Hyuuga-san?" The words were indifferent.

"Do what you like." He didn't even turn his head.

"All right, then."

She looked straight at Sumire's eyes, and clicked her fingers briskly.

The girl's breathing suddenly hitched, and she looked at Mikan, in confusion and shock. Her eyes flicked to what she held up – a spherical topaz stone, smooth and glowing just slightly.

"I'd advise you not to try to use your Alice. Give me your hand."

Sumire didn't move. Mikan sighed. "Really. Don't you want this?" She waved it in front of Sumire's nose.

The girl snatched it, and squeezed it hard, her eyes closing from the strain. Nothing happened, and after a moment, her eyes opened again, this time filled with real panic.

"Give me your hand, I said, didn't I?" Mikan reached up and pulled on Sumire's arm, clasping the shut fist in both of her hands. She let go after a second, and the fist had closed a tiny bit more.

Sumire's breath caught again, and she looked at Mikan slightly absently, disoriented. Mikan stood up. Hurriedly Sumire stepped backwards, and fell over. Mikan sighed again.

"I was trying to help you."

She stepped around Sumire and offered her a hand. The other girl took it with her head turned away, and got to her feet unsteadily. She put a hand on Natsume's desk, and let go of Mikan's hand immediately.

Mikan's voice was conversational. "Losing and gaining your Alice isn't a small thing. Dizziness, nausea, and headaches are all common."

The room, which had burst into murmuring, fell silent at the words. Addressing no one in particular, Mikan raised her head and spoke clearly. "My Alices are Nullification, Steal, and Insertion. None of them very popular – but nonetheless, they're all quite powerful. I find them very useful, if a little difficult to control. So then, I'll ask you not to provoke me, hmm?" She smiled slightly, cherry lips curving sweetly in a way that was suddenly frightening.

She turned and sat back down at her place. From her right, a very soft whisper caught her attention.

"My associates wonder why I'm so interested."

The abrupt and extremely brief wry curl of her lips was the first expression he had seen of hers that seemed at all straightforward.


End file.
